Dinner Party

by Michael Brent Jones

I surprised everyone, but mostly David when I suggested, “I grew to really appreciate how mom would always have us go around the table and what the best part of our day was, what we were excited about, and remind us that we should be doing something nice for someone each day. What do you all think?”

  “I think it’s a great suggestion,” David replied with unanimous support.

  “How about you start David,” I said.

  “Thanks Dad. Well, there’s a lady that frequently visits the hospital and apparently knows everyone. What was special about today though, is that she noticed a change in a patients eyes and came and told me. Sure enough the patient was slipping into liver failure and there was no way we would have known otherwise. Luckily catching it early there was a lot we could do and I think that with that lady’s help we saved her friend’s life.”

  “Good job Dad!”

  “Thanks. Let’s see, and something I’m excited for… well, at the end of the month we are going to visit Marie’s family in Portsmouth.”

  “You took mine!” Marie joked.

  “Well I was going to say that every day is exciting in Parker family, but I know mom would always ask me why.”

  “That’s because usually you and Ron didn’t want to confess the trouble you two were getting into,” I interrupted and Jenny looked at her dad excitedly.

  “Oh please tell a story dad!”

  “Yes David, let’s hear a confession,” I said and laughed.

  “Ron and I did get into some trouble together, but never anything too bad.” I could see he was running different events through his head and finally settled on one. “Alright, I was five and Ron was seven years old. We had worked hard to make a damn in the creek not too far from the house. It took a while and so the farmers downstream never noticed much of a difference in the amount of water running through, but slowly we were collecting more and more water.”

  I started laughing when I realized where the story was heading, because I remember a whole different part of that story that David was too young to understand, but that’s a different story.

  David continued, “We worked on that dam for a few years. I think it was the third year when Ron was ten that we had the brilliant idea to build a bridge at the top of the pond. So once dad had left for work, we took the axe from the shed and Ron tried to chop down a tree by the side of the creek.

  Well I say tried even though he did, because it was so much harder and took so much longer than we had expected. But the worst part was, the direction we hoped the tree would fall did not have anything to do with the way we were chopping at the tree. Suddenly we heard a loud crack! I froze as I watched the tree start to fall. Ron dropped the axe and tackled me out of the way of the falling tree.

  Shaken up a bit by the close call, it was a little while before we realized where the tree had fallen – right into the center of the dam, breaking it completely apart. The whole pond was gone not even a minute after the tree had broken the dam apart. We were sad about our pond, but we had no idea about the wall of water that was rushing down the stream to where the farmers were. The crops got a little extra water, but there was a dairy cow standing in the middle of the stream as it was drinking.

  Somehow that cow ended up a mile farther down the stream and when they found him, he was trying to eat the flowers in front of the old church.” We all had a good laugh.

  “What a great story Dad!”

  “Thanks sweetie.”

  “Mom you should tell a story too!”

  “Well I wasn’t such a bad child as your father,” she joked. “Hmmm… there was a time when my father got a really interesting pen. I was almost four and I had quite the wild imagination. My mother would sit and read with me, I would see the pictures and tell my own story, pretending that I was reading it from the pages.

  I don’t remember almost anything from that age, but my mom said it seemed as if I really thought I was reading it. Anyway I thought I could write as well, and that is where the pen comes in. It was what we refer to now as a permanent marker.”

  Jenny’s eyes got big in anticipation; I think she could see where this story was heading as well.

  “While Dad was at work and Mom was occupied I slipped into Dad’s office and took the pen. I smuggled it to my room and on the wall partially hidden by my bed, I started to draw a little, but apparently got caught up in the story. I wrote and drew pictures on most of that wall. This is all from what my mother told me because I don’t remember it. What I do remember though, is for some reason turning around and seeing my mom in the doorway.”

  “OHHH,” Jenny gasped.

  “That’s what I thought, but I remember my mom telling me to my relief that it was beautiful. Looking back I wonder how she broke the news to my father. But I remember she ask me to read her the story I had written.

  I wish I could remember what it was about, but all I remember is being excited to read it to my mom, and how glad I was that she wasn’t mad. After I read her the story, which she says was much longer that the scribbles on the wall would have eluded to, she told me she liked it. Then she told me that I could only write on that wall in my room, and that I had to give Dad his pen back, but that I could do chores around the house to earn money to buy my own pen.”

  “You weren’t the only one who like to draw on walls,” I said looking at David, Marie laughed.

  “Oh really?” Marie said smiling at David.

  “If I don’t remember it, I can’t be guilty,” David defended.

  “Oh but you are, except you didn’t steal the pen from me, you took it from Ron while he was using it. As he chased after you, you ran with your arm out and I watched as the pen dragged down the wall of the hallway…”

  “It wasn’t me…”

  “I almost spanked you for it, but you were a little bit too young to understand, and I figured by how irritated I was, I probably would have spanked you too hard. I did however make you apologize to your brother and sit in time out for a half an hour.”

  “In the corner in the kitchen?”

  “You do remember?”

  “Not that time, but other’s. I was there quite a bit.”

  My eyes got a little misty, and David asked, “what’s wrong Dad.”

  “It was so cute, your brother went and sat next to you with his arm around you. Neither of you said anything, because he was at least he was old enough to understand time-out meant no talking. He was always looking out for you.”

  I think I have cried more in the last few weeks than the last ten years put together, but they were mostly all happy tears. I didn’t feel that bad, because David and Marie were fighting off tears as well. Jenny felt awkward looking at any of us that were misty eyed, but I could tell she was also very curious wondering what was really happening.

  “I think that counts as my story,” I said trying to lighten the mood a little.

  “You have to tell one when you were a kid Grandpa,” Jenny pleaded.

  “I don’t even know if I can remember that far back, it was such a long time ago.”

  “Come on Grandpa,” Jenny begged.

  “Alright, let me think. Hmmm…” the first one that popped into my head was very random and quite insignificant, but for some reason it was all I could think about.

  “I know I did much worse things as a kid, but the first thing that comes to mind was when I was about five. My parents took my brother and me to the world fair in Paris that year. We were passing through a market type part of the fair and I noticed a tent selling clocks and watches of all kinds.

  I got so caught up in it that I totally lost track of time. I was mesmerized by how the watches worked and also how detailed the designs were. Now being a father and a grandfather I have a better idea of the panic my parents must have experienced when they realized I was gone.

  I didn’t know what to do. There were so many languages being spoken and everything was so loud I didn’t hear any English, until I heard my father call my name. I didn’t know ev
en what direction it was coming from because it was so crowded. But as I made my way to the exit of the tent, there was my dad. He swooped me up into his arms. Half out of breath he said, ‘I should have figured you would have liked the clocks.’”

  “I guess we all get a little lost at some point,” David commented.

  “Did I ever get lost Dad?” Jenny asked.

  David and Marie both chuckled, “Oh yes.”

  “I don’t remember getting lost.”

  “That’s because you never thought you were lost, and quite possibly you weren’t; you probably could have found your way back, but your mom and I didn’t know that.”

  “What? When?”

  David turned to Marie, “which story do you think is the best?”

  “Oh, hmm… Morris.”

  “That’s what I was thinking too, well that or mini. Why don’t you tell it honey, you were there for more of it than I was.”

  “Alright, let’s see, you were about two. We didn’t know you knew how to use keys.” She laughed, “I mean you had just barely turned two, no actually not even. Anyway, you made it out of the house, which the doorknob was way too high for you to reach, and so was the car door you also somehow managed to open.

  I feel like a terrible mom, but I had just tucked you in for nap time fifteen minutes before I heard the car start outside. I went running out thinking someone was stealing it, but to my horror the thief was little Jenny, standing on the seat with one hand on the wheel and the other pulling the gear selector to reverse.

  The car jumped backward which didn’t seem to startle you. You kept pulling the lever toward you but then you heard my scream and froze, right as the gear selector passed reverse to neutral. You coasted to a stop and by that time I had caught up to the car and opened the door. You looked at me confused what the panic was for. You said ‘Dad,’ who was late from the hospital, but was just in time to drive up to the house to see the car in the middle of the street and me pulling you out.

  I thought I could write when I was little and you thought you could drive. After about the third car hijacking, your dad caved in and would let you steer sitting on his lap. He made you promise though that you wouldn’t drive without him. It worked!”

  “Sorry Mom.”

  “I am not in the least bit mad. You’re a great driver now,” Marie said and smiled.

  “You’d think even as adults we wouldn’t wander off into trouble so often, I’m seventy-three, and I get myself lost all the time; not as often as my keys get themselves lost though,” I joked.

  “It’s true Jenny,” David started speaking. “Luckily we are surrounded by people who love us, and help us find our way when we get lost.”

  We finished the macaroni and I brought the pudding to the table. It was priceless to see Jenny’s face when she tasted the pudding.

  “Mmmm…”

  “Is that good Jenny?”

  “OH Yeah!”

  We all laughed, she was right though, it was good. David must have caught my countenance slip, and this time he was spot on, the last time I had sponge pudding was with Ann… I covered my mouth as I faked a sneeze.

  “Bless you Grandpa!” Jenny piped.

  “Thanks.”

  “So Jenny, I think it’s your turn, what are you excited about?” David asked.

  “Grandpa and I are making dinner again.”

  “The practicing sure has paid off, dinner was delicious,” David said and Jenny beamed.

  It was a very delightful evening, after we were done with dessert I got out the cards and we played several games of old maid. I forgot how competitive my David could be until Jenny got him going. Marie was trying not to show it and doing a pretty good job, but I know it wasn’t chance she won five of the seven games.